Shop at Your Peril

This past Saturday, I decided to engage in two things one should never engage in on a Satuday: Primark and Ikea.

My game plan was to get to Primark when it opened. Who the hell else wants to get up at some ungodly hour just to get some discount clothing? Well, a lot of people apparently. A whole heap of people had been sipping on the same crazy juice as me and I had to seriously control the boiling rage that simmers under my cool exterior at any given time.

I slinked around that store so well, dodging people that you’d have thought it was a highly choreographed interpretive contemporary dance. I pranced to the hosiery section where I picked out three pairs of tights in 23 seconds flat. I twisted and turned to the dresses section where I got into a Mexican stand off with some chick who thought she’d get the last dress in my particular size. She could see in my eyes that I was ready to do a dance off for it and she backed down. Then I leaped to the blouses and tops section where I picked out two items in less than 17 seconds. After trying things on Superman-in-a-phone-booth style, I made it to the check out counter, where a small miracle was performed by the Baby Jesus and there were no lines. ¬£28 later (3 pairs of tights, two tops and a skirt), I was outta there.

And all this on a day where my city was playing host to two protests; one by the EDL (English Defense League) who are similar to or somehow affiliated with the BNP (British National Party) – both groups are collectively known as WANKERS. So they were having one of their casual fascist demonstrations and the UAF (Unite Against Facism) group showed up to protest said gathering. Needless to say, tensions were high and the only way I could think to show my particular distaste was to buy a pair of stilettos that I could throw at an unsuspecting fascist should some shit go down. I do my part people, I do my part.

As if all that wasn’t enough, myself and the ‘rents decided to go to Ikea…on Saturday afternoon. I told my parents to take my bail money with them because I surely would not make it out of there without cutting a bitch. I nicknamed some of the mothers in there ‘Sister Mary Francis’ because you have to have the patience of some sort of saint to drag¬† two toddler aged children around that Swedish madhouse on a Saturday. Hats off to them.

Has anyone managed to find a shortcut through Ikea yet? If so, you could make a killing selling that map on the black market.

I think we were in there about two hours, but I managed to age ten years. To my surprise, I made it out without assaulting anyone. Now there’s just the small matter of assembling all this crap. *sigh*

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